


Paranoia and Plastics

by ifdragonscouldtalk



Series: Commissions [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explosions, Gen, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Is In Therapy, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 15:12:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18034088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifdragonscouldtalk/pseuds/ifdragonscouldtalk
Summary: Tony was prone to paranoia, defensiveness, overreaction, panic attacks -- lots of negative words which his therapist told him weren’t negative, but needed to be ‘addressed’. So he tried to tell himself the wrongness he could taste in the air, which stretched across his skin, was simply paranoia, that the anxiousness coiling in his gut was only because he had been stressed out recently, tried to relax his muscles which were tensing in defense the closer they got to the gala venue, but couldn’t. He knew the taste of blood and gunpowder on his tongue, could smell danger like a sixth sense, had learned to trust his instincts.





	Paranoia and Plastics

**Author's Note:**

> ko-fi commission! please check out my tumblr (ifdragonscouldtalk.tumblr.com) for more information on how to commission me, as I legally cannot speak about it on ao3

Tony was prone to paranoia, defensiveness, overreaction, panic attacks -- lots of negative words which his therapist told him weren’t negative, but needed to be ‘addressed’. So he tried to tell himself the wrongness he could taste in the air, which stretched across his skin, was simply paranoia, that the anxiousness coiling in his gut was only because he had been stressed out recently, tried to relax his muscles which were tensing in defense the closer they got to the gala venue, but couldn’t. He knew the taste of blood and gunpowder on his tongue, could smell danger like a sixth sense, had learned to trust his instincts.

So, with the worry that it really was just paranoia, he grabbed Natasha’s arm to draw her attention and studied her face, whispering “Something’s wrong.”

To her credit, she took it in stride, didn’t look at him like he was crazy, her face a mask of seriousness and professionalism. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know yet. It feels... I can just, I can sense it. There’s something _wrong_.” She nodded, looking at the others as their conversations trailed off, all focus on him.

“Should we turn around, call the gala and bail?”

“I don’t-”

The car next to them exploded, rocking the limo and sending them grabbing for the nearest handhold, and Tony was on his knees on the floor as Hell exploded around him, mortars and gunfire and shouting and so many hands, pushing and shoving and prodding, his hands covering his ears, tangled in his hair, clutching at his scalp. He wasn’t going to leave the Humvee this time, had made that mistake before, was going to wait for Rhodey to come get him out of the burning sands, refusing to be moved by the hands which grabbed him, not hearing the words which he was sure the shouts contained over the sound of gunfire striking the side of the Humvee, and it took him a moment to realize the sound of bullets wasn’t only in his head, jumping and looking up as one of the windows of the limo spiderwebbed with a sound as loud as a whip crack, staring at the bullet caught there.

He needed Rhodey, needed to wait for him, needed to make sure he was coming, needed SHIELD backup, they were all unarmed because they were going to the gala and they weren’t allowed weapons at events anymore, needed to make sure the soldier up front was actually dead and not just in need of whatever shoddy medical attention he could give, needed his hands to stop shaking as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed Rhodey’s speed-dial. He could taste blood and sand and plastic explosive, ashes coating his tongue, could smell fire and hot wind and Steve’s sweat, could feel Natasha’s nails digging into his arm and the warmth of the body next to him in the Humvee leaching out. “ _Tones? I’m about to go into a meeting-_ ”

“Was your Humvee hit too? I- I can’t get out, they’re launching mortars at us and if I go out I might be hit.”

“ _Tony?_ ” Rhodey’s voice was immediately full of panic and fear, and Tony shook his head, trying to physically shake off the flash-backs. He needed help, but he wasn’t there.

“No, I mean, they attacked the limo, I don’t... I need backup, Rhodey. Please, you gotta get me outta here, you’re bringing a helicopter right? I didn’t get out of the Humvee this time, shit, _shit_ I can’t fucking keep it straight-”

“ _Tony, are you with the others? You did good, but I need you do hand the phone to one of the others now._ ”

“Right, right, right,” he breathed, handing the phone to Steve with an “It’s for you.”

“Rhodes, we’re pretty much unarmed, could you send some backup our way? We were on route to the gala, we aren’t injured but Tony’s in a bad way.”

Steve’s voice faded into the background as Natasha stood, and he grabbed her arm, too tight, bruises and nails and fear, staring up at her and seeing the soldier, too young, too kind, leaving him. “We can’t leave the Humvee,” he insisted, his voice breathy, and he hadn’t realized his breath was coming too fast too short too shallow, one hand still clutched in his own hair. “There’s too many mortars out there. Please, at least give me a weapon, I know how to shoot, we can make a stand from here. We just need to wait for backup, keep them off us until Rhodey can get here.”

“Alright Tony,” Natasha said reasonably, and he sucked in a breath. This wasn’t how it went the first time, this wasn’t Afghanistan, and this was _not_ the time to have a PTSD attack. “I need to find a weapon, first, and then I’ll give it to you, I promise.” He nodded, but couldn’t get his breath to slow down, and the next second he found himself in recovery position, his head between his knees and his hands clutched between two pairs of others. “Breathe, Tony!” Natasha was saying frantically in his ear, her nails digging into his skin, a grounding pain. “Just like your therapist told you. In, hold, out. Focus, Tones, it’s alright, use your senses. What do you smell?”

“Explosive,” he whispered. “I smell explosive. Plastics and gunpowder.” She nodded, her hair brushing against his shoulder, her black dress visible in the corner of his eye. He glanced up, saw Clint hunkered down by the door, peering out the window, his foldable mini-bow which worked more like a slingshot out, his jacket off and sleeves rolled up to show the sharp plastic bolts strapped to his forearm.

“I count at least ten hostiles, don’t recognize the uniforms,” he called, voice grim and serious.

“Rhodes is coming with backup, ETA ten or fifteen minutes,” Steve replied, tone matching Clint’s.

“We might not have ten minutes,” Natasha said grimly, and Tony sucked in another breath, counting, trying to still his panicked mind.

“Driver’s dead, armor piercing bullet came through the windshield,” Thor said, and then Tony heard the sound of the deadlock being activated, sealing them in the back of the limo.

“Armor piercing? Why aren’t the windows shot out?” Bruce asked, panic and fear in his voice.

“Windshield has more surface area, less strength,” Natasha replied absently. “But that might not last long. We need to move.”

“None of us have weapons,” Steve argued. “Clint’s little slingshot isn’t going to do much against armor piercing rounds.”

“Besides, Tony can’t move,” Bruce said, and Tony could feel his fingers on his wrist, still focusing on sucking in air, hating the taste of blood and feeling like it was too thin in there, too hot, burning like the sands around them. “He’s tachycardic, and he still can’t breathe: we try and move him and he’s going down immediately.”

There was another explosion behind them, rocking the limo, one side tilting as the tire blew and sent them crashing onto the rim with a loud _bang_ , and Tony was screaming, tearing at his hair, willing the pain in his chest away, the burning, a pain so unbearable it was impossible to describe, the taste of blood and metal on his teeth with no relief, screeching until his voice cracked as they sawed through his ribs, _awake_ , able to feel every motion vibrating straight through his core and no way to release the pain except to _scream_ , couldn’t move, could only wait for them to finish or to die. He could feel hands on his wrists, too tight, bruising, didn’t know why he was fighting against them, didn’t know why he was crushed against someone’s chest, screaming shrilly to their heart, didn’t know why there were people shouting and whispering and praying in his ears, didn’t know why he couldn’t breathe but couldn’t taste the water in his throat. Someone was yanking off his jacket and undoing his tie, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt, and he was sure it was now covered in sand and ash and blood, tearing at his chest when one of his hands was released, feeling the sharp edge of the arc reactor and imagining he could feel the weight of the car battery in his lap, screaming again when his wrist was grabbed once more and his arms were crossed against his chest, trapped against someone’s breathing warmth, and he shuddered like he had been freezing, gasping in a breath.

“Tony, come back to us,” Bruce was saying calmly in his ear, voice low and _solid_ , and he knew it was Thor holding him, Natasha kneeling next to his knees, Steve and Clint coordinating with Rhodey over the phone, demanding back up _fast_. “C’mon, Tony, breathe for me. That’s it, in and out, no, slow it down a bit. Count for me, Tones, you know how this goes. I don’t have anything I can give you, buddy, you have to calm down for me the hard way. As soon as I’ve got some diazepam and morphine, you know it’s yours.” Tony managed a shaky smile at that, trying to focus blurry vision, trying to ignore the desert which stretched around him, stained with blood and the marks of explosions.

“Sorry- Sorry, I know... I know I’m not helping.”

“ _Don’t_ be sorry,” Natasha snarled vehemently. “Those _assholes_ who blew up our limo should be sorry!” His smile was a bit stronger this time, and he closed his eyes, exhausted, putting all his energy into just breathing, tipping his head back against Thor’s shoulder. The demigod still didn’t release him, holding him tightly, rubbing his arms and pressing kisses into his hair. “Rhodes is on his way, he’ll clean this up real quick and then we can call your therapist and take your meds, alright?”

“Sounds great to me,” he whispered, and Bruce chuckled without humor.

“It’s a plan then.”

Whatever else happened in the limo, it passed in a blur of trying to breathe and the sound of gunfire, and the next thing Tony was really aware of was sitting on the bumper of an ambulance with a dose of diazepam in him and an oxygen mask clutched in his hand while Bruce clucked over him and Natasha pressed his phone into his hand, already having dialed his therapist. “Hey Pam,” he rasped into the phone, his voice wrecked from screaming.

“ _Hey there, Tony. I heard you had a bit of an attack?_ ”

“Just a little one.” Natasha and Bruce both frowned at him. “Ah, well, okay, maybe it wasn’t little, maybe I almost passed out twice from hyperventilation.”

“ _But I hear there were extenuating circumstances?_ ”

“Some bombs went off. I wasn’t prepared for it. You know I can handle it in battle.”

“ _Yeah. And I hear you even called for help, used all the tools we’ve been working on to try and stay lucid, and weren't violent._ ”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“ _T_ _hat’s really good, Tony. I know it doesn’t feel like it, and you’re exhausted, but it’s really really good. Honestly, I’m proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself. Can you come in for a session tomorrow?_ ”

“I think that would be best, yeah. But thanks. I don’t know about being proud, but... I managed to help my team, at least.” Bruce and Natasha both smiled at him, and he caught Clint, Steve, and Thor’s eyes as they glanced over to check on him. Yeah, he was going to be okay, with them here.


End file.
